


How to Offend Women in Five Syllables or Less

by Some_Impossible_Fairytale



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Adam and Belle grow up together, Adam becomes a good guy on his own merits, Adam needs to get a grip, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Pirate, BAMF Belle, Belle takes no shit, F/M, Golden Age of Piracy, Historical References, M/M, No Curse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining! Adam, References to Shakespeare, the only harm is pecuniary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:03:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Impossible_Fairytale/pseuds/Some_Impossible_Fairytale
Summary: Adam and Belle have been told for as long as they can remember that they would get married someday. Except, when they first met they hated each other. But when Belle returns, Adam falls in love with the beautiful, bookish fiancee and proposes to her. Less than impressed by her intended, Belle decides that a life upon the high seas, chasing adventure as a pirate is far more appealing.To say Adam fucked up is an understatement.





	1. Chapter 1

“Your Royal Highness, may I present the Princess Belle, daughter of King Maurice and the late Queen Nicole, may she rest in peace”

Belle’s eyes narrowed as Prince Adam mumbled over the customary words with the rest of the court. He too has lost his mother and she would have thought that maybe this fact would have elicited sympathy, perhaps a smile of fellow feeling. Instead he looks bored and mildly resentful. Although only eight years old, she had heard stories of the young Princeling who was a full two years older than herself from her lady in waiting Plumette. So far the older woman had been proven correct; he was just as conceited and apathetic as she’d said. However, she’d been taught better than to judge first appearances and her future husband was meant to be as great a book lover as Belle herself. So maybe they could be friends and work out how to be husband and wife together. They weren’t to get married until Belle was eighteen at least, and even then Papa had promised that if Belle did not fall in love with Adam, she wouldn’t have to marry him. But the whole reason they were doing this is that her Maman and the Prince’s, Queen Danielle had been close friends since girlhood and it had been their wish that their children would fall in love and join their kingdoms forever.

But given the way Adam was looking at her scathingly across the throne room and taking a step back every time Monsieur Cogsworth wasn’t looking, she was rather hoping she’d fall out of a tree or have an accident in Papa’s laboratory and be confined to bed rest for this summer instead.

Directly opposite Belle, Prince Adam stood, trying in vain to catch the eyes of Lumiere, his Maitre’D. Cogsworth wouldn’t help him, nor Mrs. Potts who was the whole reason he was in this mess in the first place. Since Father didn’t seem to notice much whether he was alive these days, she had been the one to insist that Mama’s plan be brought to fruition. His father had barely looked up before the agreement was out of his mouth (Adam wasn’t in the room, but he can well imagine the scene) deeming it perfectly acceptable parenting as well as good politics to get his son taken care of and a dynasty in the running before Adam’s even grown.

It was a good job Mrs Potts was his favourite, he thought darkly as he looked the Princess up and down. She was pretty, even he could see that and one of the things he had heard during the staff’s lecture about being gentlemanly, sitting up straight and the usual polite tripe he was expected to perform whilst entertaining was that she liked books. That he and the Princess would have such fun together. But it wasn’t like for the rest of the summers as long as they both shall live she was going to be someone he could wrestle, hunt or box with. None of the other Court ladies with their thick layers of powder and rouge did that. Of course some of them couldn’t even read so for someone as young as Belle, there was at least some degree of potential.

Instead of Lumiere’s eye or even Madame de Garderobe however, he catches Mrs. Potts eye. _Merde._ He knows what comes next but he hadn’t thought she’d been _serious._ Crossing the room and carefully avoiding the little brunette’s face, he reached for her wrist and as quickly as humanly possible brushed his lips against the back of her hand as he bowed to her.

Behind him, Adam heard a coo from the ladies and couldn’t help but shudder.

Unable to resist, the Prince chanced a glance at his betrothed, wondering if she would surprise them all and take a shot at him for it. Instead, to his growing horror, she looked rather pleased by the whole exchange.

“Pleased to meet you, Prince Adam”

_Merde. Double Merde. Triple, quadruple merde._

“The pleasure is mine” he gets out from gritted teeth as quickly as he can, forgetting the honorific in his hurry to get out of there. He might catch hell for it later but Cogsworth’ll have to catch _him_ first.

This was _so_ not his idea of fun. Unless, he could convince the little Princess to want nothing to do with him…and then he could end this unsightly engagement business before it properly began….

***

“I didn’t _mean_ for Prince Adam to fall down the stairs!” Belle insisted, oblivious to the dirty looks said Prince was shooting her behind her back as one of the servants carried him to his chambers. “We were sword-fighting is all” she explained to Mrs. Potts who nodded kindly and replied that once Adam was resting they’d all laugh about this over a nice cup of tea.

“Girls can’t sword-fight” he retorted, glaring down at Belle. She’d done this on purpose he’d bet his life all because he’d blocked her thrust like an expert.

“That’s not what Master Forel says”

“Who’s that?”

“My sword master. Papa hired him for me after I said I wanted to learn” Belle flashed a smile up at him, genuine and warm at the mention of her father. Although it was normally Mrs. Potts, Lumiere or Belle’s lady – Plumette – he thinks her name is, were the ones to chaperone their time together, he saw King Maurice at mealtimes. The neighbouring King doted on his little girl, always bending to kiss her cheek, or gather her up into his arms to carry her into dinner. Adam’s father on the other hand reserved his smiles for King Maurice and Belle, whose Kingdom had the best Navy and trade routes. Even the man’s respect was strategic.

“You _liar”_

Belle gasped, evidently horrified by the insult. _Good_ , thought Adam proudly, glad to have won the argument. As he watched from Chapeau’s arms, Belle scrubbed hastily at her cheeks, trying desperately not to cry. Huffing tearfully, she tore her hand free from Mrs. Potts gentle grip, dipped a remarkably speedy curtsey _to the staff_ and dashed back the way they had come calling for her father.

Cry-baby.

“Prince Adam!” Mrs. Potts cried horrified. “Young man, the minute you can walk you are to march yourself to the Princess’ apartments and apologise for that appalling display, do I make myself clear?”

When Adam argued back that Belle was the one punished for fibbing Mrs. Potts had thrown her hands up in the air and asked the Almighty to save royals from themselves, before asking how Adam knew she was lying?

Adam could only shrug, watching baffled as Lumiere had rolled his eyes skywards, Mrs. Potts turned on heel and sped after Belle and even retiring Chapeau poked him by way of reprimand.

What had gotten into all of them?

****

Mrs Potts, on the other hand, was thanking her lucky stars that Belle had found Plumette rather than Maurice. The last thing they needed was this marriage to break down before the royal intended were out of the nursery. The younger woman was kneeling in front of her little mistress, hugging her and whispering soothingly.

Mrs Potts thinks longingly of the child she and Jehan have been talking about having. But ever since dear Queen Danielle had passed, Beatrice’s thoughts of her own family had been put on hold. She couldn’t leave that sweet young lad to the mercy of his father. It was for this reason, as well as out of respect for the two dead Queens, that she had fought tooth and nail to have Belle come to the Castle. As that little interlude had exhibited, the Prince was already feeling the loss of his mother. They couldn’t fail him by letting his father twist him into someone just like him.

Rather, let him play and learn with someone who would give as good as they got, who would not bow and scrape to him due to something so small as the inferiority of their status. Sensing someone else approaching, Plumette looks up and seeing who it is, raises her eyebrow in a silent question. Nodding at Belle and shaking her head Mrs Potts mouths “Later” at the other woman. If she’d thought Adam was clever, Belle was dizzying, just the other day Mrs Potts had caught her in the nursery, fixing the Prince’s broken mechanical horse and buggy, a clever toy two children could comfortably sit in, that he’d accidentally driven into the wall weeks ago. She’d been about to inform the little girl of the issue, even chide her in case there was an accident with the cogs and gears when Belle had flicked the switch and the little horse had given a musical whinny and started trotting along.  Instead she puts on her cheeriest tone and explains the incident away, as the Prince being in shock from the fall and he’ll feel awful when he realises what he’s said in his pain.

Maybe, Mrs Potts thinks, just maybe if she wishes for it hard enough, it’ll be true.

Adam doesn’t apologise, doesn’t even realise one of his favourite toys is once again functional. The rest of June right through until September, the two children ignore each other as much as possible. Still, they are young, there is time yet to rescue the situation. Perhaps, the staff agree with each other over their evening tea fortified with a splash of brandy, next summer will be different.

****

Things progress in much the same fashion the next summer, and the summer after that. It seems as if over the winter months Adam and Belle forget their difficulties, their stubbornness and dislike of the other. Then when the summer comes around once more, as they get used to each other again, things deteriorate just as before. Beyond any potential encounters in the corridors or things said at mealtimes, Mrs. Potts and the others simply cannot understand how to improve matters as the royal pair are never left alone. Now 16 and 14 respectively, they have approached a cool civility, having realised that the arrangement has an ending date they appear to have silently agreed to just get through the next number of summers until freedom prevails. With only four years left before the decision is made, they are beginning to lose hope of even a friendship between Belle and Adam, let alone a marriage proposal.

The only romance that has blossomed in this place, is that between Lumiere and Plumette.

That is not to say Adam has not improved, he says his pleases and thank yous without being prompted, no longer snatches or interrupts. And all because of Belle, who was very much whiskey in a teacup, kind and caring but stronger than she looked in more ways than one. Belle, better than anyone, would stand up to Adam, smartly demand his reasoning for why he should get his way and if it was ridiculous or greedy refuse outright. And even if Adam hurt himself trying to show off, Belle would forget her distaste, run to his side and check him over, whispering words of comfort until help arrived. It was why the staff, even the pessimistic Cogsworth, were always sad to see the young lady leave. She incited something in Adam they had not seen since his mother died; a happiness and some spark in him, something his father was determined to quash.

Now Belle is sitting on a chaise longue in the Library with her feet tucked under her shirts reading _Romeo and Juliet_ for the hundredth time. It was here that she spent most of her time because Adam only came in to choose a new book of return an old one and was easy to avoid. Well, when Cogsworth doesn’t track her down and mention that the Young Master was rather hoping she would like a game of chess, or perhaps practise the latest moves from Master Forel.

Adam hates playing chess with her because Belle wins more often than he does.

Hopefully, partially obscured by the curtain, she stands a greater chance of avoiding discovery.  That’s when she hears the door creak open and Chip, the Potts’ son comes barrelling into the room calling for her, having slipped away from his Mama yet again. Putting aside her copy of Shakespeare, Belle slides the curtain aside and calls for her little friend. Although only two, Chip is bright and full of fun, exactly what Belle needs during these long summer months.

At the sound of her voice, Chip toddles round looking for ‘Bell-Bell’ and lets out a shriek of delight when she sneaks up behind him, scoops up the little boy and twirls him in the air. Having secured Chip in her arms, Belle returns to the chaise to collect her book in order to sequester herself in her chambers and beg Mrs Potts for an hour or so’s play with the little boy before dinner. Rather than sitting in disagreeable silence with Adam, who has been particularly foul to her this summer. However, she is beginning to think that’s just who he is, if the way he’d snapped at Papa the other day in the Rose Garden was anything to go by.

Just as she’s about to reach the Library’s hidden staircase up to the second floor and the reprieve of two cities in northern Italy, the door opens.

Belle knows it’s unladylike to swear by the swearword that flashes across her consciousness is reflexive.

“Petit? Chip, my little love where are you?” Plumette wandered into the room, hand in hand with Lumiere, looking for the little boy, evidently taking care of him whilst his father was working at the kiln and Mrs. Potts was busy trying to get Adam to be respectable. Belle watched frozen as the pair rounded the corner, stooped low looking for the little boy before they spotted her. Belle smiled awkwardly by way of greeting, trying not to focus on the way the couple’s eyes widened at the sight of her. It was most likely the fact that she’d clapped her hand over Chip’s mouth when the door opened to keep him quiet, but it could equally be that she had charcoal or grease smudges on her face from where she’d spent the morning tinkering in her rooms.

“Cherie?” Lumiere broke away from his Amor to take the squirming child from her and set him down. “Beatrice was just looking for you”

Belle fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Not trusting herself to speak, Belle nods and leaves the broken peace of her sanctor sanctorum to seek out Mrs Potts and inevitably, Adam. The mantel clock she’d cast her eye upon said that it was only an hour until dinner. Long enough to teach Adam another game on the chessboard without wanting to carve out her eyes with a spoon before dinner.

***

Adam hated chess. More specifically, he hated chess with _Belle._ He does not hate the Princess herself, no matter how the girl gets under his skin. She’s actually grown to be rather interesting as the years have passed and it has been fun to have a playmate who does not give him everything he wants automatically.

He had been so angry and so alone when Mama had died when he was nine. Having Belle come into his life the next year, become a fixture in a way she had never been before had been good for him, even he could see that. He had wanted a fight, even if he hadn’t realised it at the time, but was too afraid of Father and the servants just gave in, too concerned for the lost little princeling. Belle had given as good as she got when he had wound her up and needled her. She’d also come into the nursery once to find him crying, unable to stop and when he’d shouted at her to get out, she had quietly laid her handkerchief on his knee with a gentle squeeze and retreated without a word.

He wasn’t sure if she remembered that, but he certainly did.

The thing is, she’s _Belle._ He can’t put it into words but when he’s tried to explain to Lumiere, LeFou and Stanley, it was that she is his childhood companion, forced into his company for several months every year – not friend, they’ll never be friends, she’s too annoying for that – akin to a sister he can’t shake off no matter how hard he tries. She never does what he expects, let alone what he wants, she doesn’t seem to listen to him and rarely fights fair.

Not only is she quicker than he is, but she’s cleverer too. Their education is just as expensive as each other’s, yet still Belle surpasses him in the most frightening ways. Maurice being a supportive, forward thinking King has a kingdom with the highest literacy that Adam’s heard of. She doesn’t even realise it but she’ll answer a question the moment its asked and talks about subjects with so many tangents along the way that he gets lost in the picture she paints. Belle can create worlds with her words, with a vibrancy that transports him alongside her and then she’ll stop talking, breaking for air and that flash of world is gone like it was never there. And he hates it because of how wonderful it must be to live in Belle’s head if it’s like that all the time. Hence the hatred of the little chess games Cogsworth bloody insists upon. Adam has never been able to get over the fact that the one thing, **the one thing,** on which Cogsworth is wholly implacable, is sodding chess.

_“Chess, my young friends, is war on the board. It is the perfect way to understand the principles which you may, God forbid, one day need. The purpose is to destroy your opponents mind. Knights,” he’d continued, evidently sensing that Adam was about to contest matters “used to play this to enhance their strategic capabilities”_

_Damn him, he knew Adam’s love of the tales of old, Morte de Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere, chivalry and daring. It had made sense that Cogsworth’s obsession was based on military strategy._

_“Oui, my prince!” Lumiere had added, trying to make matters more appealing “Think of it, you are both just like Lancelot and Guinevere”_

Adam remembers the embarrassment he’d felt, ears burning at Belle’s surprised face across the board at the mention of one of his favourite stories as he’d desperately shouted at the Maitre’D to please shut up. She couldn’t complain, he had said please.

The thing is, with his wife-to-be, she’s still a little girl and Adam, finally out of his own gangly youth into a rather strapping (if he did say so himself) 16 year old would much rather be spending time exploring the pleasures of adulthood with girls his own age.

 Belle of course, appears never to have suffered an awkward day in her life, has never had so much as spot from the day she hit puberty the lucky little shit. Even if she did wander round with her skirts tucked into her waistband and apron pockets attached like a country girl. Anyway, Adam thinks as he again tries to quietly edge his gilded chair away from the chessboard in order to make a break for it while Cogsworth’s back is turned without success, its only an hour till dinner and then he could stroll down to the orangery and see if Helene the Comte d’Ormonde’s daughter wanted to take a stroll in the garden maze.

Thinking of pretty, rosy Helene, Adam shifts in his seat and focuses on the matter at hand, beating Belle at her own game. Its only a matter of minutes before Belle pokes her head in, flanked on either side by Plumette and Lumiere. Ah. So she hadn’t escaped their scheduled time together either. Chip is tangling round her skirts, chattering a mile a minute about this and that.

Chip is one of the few people who manages to pierce Adam’s sullen armour, being only a child, Adam tries to stay away from the little boy as much as possible when his own father’s being particularly poisonous. Partly its because Adam does not want a little boy to look at him the way he looks at his own father. But, more selfishly were Adam to be wholly honest with himself, it was because he didn’t really want to look at a boy who loving parents. Once Belle is ensconced in her chair, Chip is ushered away by Plumette and the game can begin.

Twenty minutes later, Belle reaches over and elegantly knocks down Adam’s ebony King with a flick of her fingernail. Most of her ivory pieces remain, including both King and Queen. He’s going to have to have a word with Cogsworth about stopping these fucking matches because he really doesn’t need the blow to his self confidence.

“Shah Mat, Adam”

Oh did he mention Belle speaks Persian? He didn’t even know they had that language in the Library but they do and Belle’s been using the expression for about three years now every time she wins. Honestly he think he’d like her better if she’d lose at chess.

“Congratulations. Once again” he shouldn’t bait her like this, but Father had caught him chatting to Mr. Potts this morning about how porcelain is made and shouted at him not to take interest in such menial matters. So it’s safe to say he’s not feeling particularly tolerant today.

“Did you ever think maybe I win so often because I understand the game better than you?” Belle retorts just as coolly, not looking at him as she picks the pieces up and returns them to the box.

Cogsworth clears his throat in warning at her behaviour but Belle ignores him. Behind that fair façade she’s really rather odd. He’d find it endearing if it wasn’t so dangerously intriguing. He refuses to pursue a friendship with Belle, refuses to let his Father manipulate his life any more than he already does by accepting the idea of marrying the political choice.

Or marrying at all.

Fuck that.

“Really? Do enlighten me as to what I’m missing”

“As the Italians say, I understand that at the end of the game, kings and pawns go back into the same box” Belle retorted, slamming the lid and throwing herself away from the chair, whirling out of the drawing room door in a flurry of blue fabric and passion.

That’s another thing about Belle: she always leaves him speechless.

That’s the last summer Adam sees Belle, a message comes the next year that the pirates plaguing the seas are targeting Maurice’s trading routes, making a royal voyage impossible. Even if the Kingdom itself were not under attack, Belle cannot be sent alone in a convoy. She’s too valuable a hostage if they travelled, even under a different flag.

For the next four years, Adam gets his dearest wish of summers interrupted by that inquisitive, bookish girl.

And hates it.

Without Belle, life is much darker in the castle, for all of them. He’d never realised that her differences _made_ a difference. Her steady quietness in the library, the arguments they’d have over characters (Romeo and Juliet seemed to raise their ghosts every time he was feeling particularly angry), the gentle laughter with Plumette as the girl walked arm in arm with her maid, status and propriety thrown to the winds. Or more unusually for a girl of her time, being sent to escort her to dinner and finding her on the floor of chambers surrounded by cogs, paper and pencil, hair manically stuffed behind her ears as she fiddles with an abacus doing calculations.  The way she talked back to his father, when the bastard made an appearance. Even the soft spoken King Maurice, with his unassuming fatherly ways, stepping in where King Henri failed.

It’s then that Adam makes a decision. Belle will come back. She will, someday, she’ll walk back in and he’ll be able to thank her for not just hiding at one end of the castle all those years. For needling him and giving as good as good as she got, getting in his face and shouting back, far more eloquently and cleverly than he ever could. For making sure he wasn’t intolerant to feelings, for ensuring he received tenderness when he needed it.

For being Belle.

But until then, he’ll have to make sure that the light she brought to the castle doesn’t die in her absence.

****

Adam is sitting on the floor with Chip, a rambunctious child of six now, reading _Aesop’s Fables_ to the little one when the door opens. He hears it, but does not break in reading aloud, assuming its Mrs. Potts looking for them with some tea or one of the others. Hell, it could even be LeFou and Stanley wondering if he wishes to explore the woods beyond the castle grounds. He and Chip are sequestered in a little cranny of the room, in front of an enormous wingback chair Adam had dragged into position years before. It was skilfully placed so that by craning one’s neck a little beyond the alcove, you could get a good view of whoever was coming before they saw you themselves.

Whoever has entered the room is moving very slowly, he thinks, interest piqued. Still he keeps his finger firmly under the words they are reading for Chip to follow as he stumbles over the words. There’s not the brisk clip of Mrs. Potts nor the heavy thud of Cogsworth.

Gently ensuring that Chip is settled on the floor and will not going wandering into the cavernous room by himself (because what a disaster that had been the last time, he’d fallen asleep inside an empty bottom shelf so Adam and LeFou hadn’t been able to see him when they’d glanced round the corners) Adam gets up and wanders into the main walkway.

Standing stock still by a bookshelf, as if ready to select a tome is a young woman. Even from this distance, he can see she’s beautiful. Yet she’s already reading a black leather covered volume, completely absorbed in what she’s doing.

A new servant perhaps?

No, he disregards that thought immediately, for although her hair is dressed simply – no wigs or powder (something his father’s been trying to force him into regardless of Adam’s distaste for it) as he draws closer her gown has an elegance to it in the style and cut. He’d thought it was a deep navy colour as he observes her elegant figure upon drawing closer he realises its purple.

_Royalty?_

_Please sweet Mercy don’t let it be one of Father's old Mistresses feigning pregnancy and demanding her child's rights, brought up from the country. Adam alone stands as heir in law as well as fact, his father had used many potions assiduously to prevent additional children_

As a child Adam had thrown several tantrums, flat out refusing for his father’s mistresses to be allowed into the castle. In hindsight, it was probably Belle’s influence that meant he hadn’t simply borne the situation. It wasn’t as if he’d thought the King would listen but when Adam took to skipping meals and hiding at every available opportunity, he began to see that his late wife’s will of iron had survived in their son. Adam would not have those _bitchy, boorish, brainless_ women in his mother’s bed, thinking themselves the epitome of greatness for having ensnared the King himself. God it wasn’t as if it was complex to do so. The final straw had come when he had caught one of them looming over Belle, a diatribe on how the little princess (who had natural beauty by the bucket, even Adam would admit that) could look so much better if she would just try this lotion or this potion in full flow. Especially given that the lotion she was shoving in the younger girl’s face had just been banned because someone had twigged that it caused fainting and disfigurement.

From then on the King had kept his latest amusements at one of the country palaces, away from his insubordinate child.

Evidently, the lady, whomever she may be, finally realises she’s not alone in the room and turns – looking angry at being perturbed. Their eyes catch and the anger softens into confusion, as if she’s trying to place his face.

Not one of Father's previous beauties then.

And yet. And yet. There _is_ something familiar though in the bend of her neck, the way her nose is stuck in a copy of _A General History of Pirates_ wending her way through the room as if the obstacles are second nature to her now.

_“Belle?!”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say that I edited the last chapter to kill off Adam's father at the end of it. I'm not sure about this chapter so if you could tell me what you like about it and the story altogether, I'd be grateful xx

_“Belle?”_ It’s only when she hears the young gentleman who’d been staring at her say her name, shattering the quiet and pulling her away from the high seas, that she suspects she might know him. He’s richly, if simply dressed; a white shirt,  flat brown boots and azure britches embroidered with golden thread. Long hair neatly tied back, wonderful cheekbones. It’s the eyes that keep nagging at her really; blue as cornflower and sparking with life. She knows him, she’s sure of it but from _where?_

The Librarian? She guesses, trying to understand why the face is so familiar, especially in the Library. They look wide and surprised, those eyes and that looks wrong. She’s used to blue eyes being screwed up in angry distaste when she’d beaten Adam at chess or taken too long with a book. _Merde!_ The answer hits her like lightening, a flash of a painting of this same man in the Long Corridor where all his ancestors hang in her mind’s eye.

“Adam!”

“Who are you?”  the third voice breaks the moment like glass and both Adam and Belle  jump at the child’s voice. A young boy, who can’t be older than ten appears as if out of nowhere. He’s little, with sandy brown hair, clutching a book like an anchor to his chest he slinks up to Adam and slips his fingers through the older boy’s own. Well. Man, now she comes to think of it. Adam had been 16 the last time they’d met and that was over four years ago. He’s a strapping man of twenty now; tall and broad. It would remind her of Gaston if not for the ease of his stance, there’s no tension, no falseness to the gentleness she sees in his expression.

God but this is unexpected.

Adam bends first, eyes slipping almost reluctantly from her face to answer the little boy. For one sickening moment, when she observes the way Adam kneels beside the little boy, tenderly encircling both of his shoulders with one of his arms and inclining his head, Belle wonders if this is Adam’s child. He’d been terribly fond of Helene d’Ormonde if memory served.

“You remember Belle don’t you Chip?”

Of course! The Potts’ little boy would be about the age of this child now and Chip had been the one person Adam would never raise his voice to. Chip’s curiosity appeared to have given him courage, for now that Adam’s paying attention to him once more, he appears to have been struck mute, as many children are. Chip shakes his head but encouragingly, he smiles at Belle and waves “Pleased to meet you.”

Belle grins back and bends to present her hand; giggling when Chip takes it and gives an enthused shake. Much better than some sloppy kiss any day.

“Nice to see you again too Chip”

“Do you like to read Miss Belle?” Chip asks suddenly, glossing over her familiarity.

Belle affirms her love for the particular hobby, showing him the title of her own volume and reading it aloud for him, when he struggles with the words. The word ‘pirate’ could be akin to the phrase ‘Open Sesame’ for the effect it produces. Chip immediately grabs her hand and insists she read to him, declaring himself done with lessons to the day. Belle looks up at Adam, pleased to find that he takes time out of his day to teach Chip to read, rather than leaving it to his parents who have their actual jobs to get on with.

Adam winks conspiratorially at her and rises to his full height, remarking that he thinks it was time for story-time anyway. Chip claps his hands delightedly, practically kicks the book he’d dropped to complete the action across the room and leads the way to a throne-like wingback chair situated in an alcove. Belle thinks that children are more like fairies than cherubs, bodies only big enough for only one emotion at a time. There’s a veritable nest of plump cushions on the floor, and stacks of books tottering either side of the chair’s arms. Clearly this is a favoured spot. Adam renters her eyeline at a minute, trailing behind almost shyly. Adam was never shy and neither was she. You can’t be shy and survive at a royal court. He was graceful, elegant with a stride that was like a ship cutting through the waves. Now he seems quite bashful, but that might just be how he acts around Chip, shrinking himself down so as not to seem so big and scary. There’s a thunk and she realises he’s picked up Chip’s discarded book and placed it safely on a desk to prevent it from being stepped on.

Chip takes charge in a manner that would make Henry Cogsworth proud, evidently completely forgetting that he’s talking to royalty. It’s wonderfully refreshing rather than being bowed and scraped to every time she turns a corner. He orders her to sit (she’s pretty sure he meant the floor and she would have gladly obliged but Adam neatly manipulates it so that she’s in the chair with Chip in her lap instead. Adam disappears and Belle doesn’t have time to wonder where he’s gone because Chip wiggles to get comfortable and sets about opening the book to the first page.

“Read please” he says in a tone that brooks no argument.

Belle’s just finished the first page when Adam returns, dragging an accompanying chair and settles himself in quietly to listen.

It’s a wonderfully unexpected way to start the summer.

****

An hour later, Chip’s attention begins to waiver from pirates – there may have been a brief intermission where they played at pirates and mercy wasn’t allowed. There’d been a strange moment when Chip had dashed round too quickly and somehow both Adam and Belle had tripped, landing on each other,  breathless with laughter. It had been a funny moment drowned in silence, because after Adam had scrambled upright, Belle had found she wasn’t alone in blushing when he’d pulled her to her feet and turned her chin this way and that looking for injuries. There was, it was funny, but there was a prevalent gentleness about Adam now that Belle had rarely seen before. They’d both grown out of the petulant shoving long ago and hopefully the constant competition had abated now they were both grown.

Maybe they could be friends now?

“You’re teaching him to read?” she asks tentatively, sneaking a sideways glance at him and immediately looking away when she sees Adam is returning her gaze.

“Yes,” they’re strolling along to the servants quarters to return the tuckered out little boy to his mother, Chip sleeping in Adam’s arms. He carries the child easily, one hand on Chip’s legs wrapped round his waist to keep from slipping to the floor, the other rubbing Chip’s back affectionately. Belle can’t help but look at the scene with wonder. From all she’s seen of Adam this morning, the four intervening years between her last visit have evidently changed him. For this is a side she’s rarely seen before and Belle’s humble enough to admit that she likes what she sees.

“He would come and find me so regularly, remember? I was the only one who was free to play most of the time and he wanted to be able to read for himself when his parents or I weren’t able to read to him. So I juggled my schedule around a bit and now we read together for an hour everyday”

Adam returns Belle’s smile but before Belle can question him further he calls out “Mrs. Potts! Delivery!”

At his words, Mrs. Potts appears from round the corner and she claps her hands together “Oh! There you are boys! I was just about to send someone to fetch you – ah Belle!” the housekeeper smiles warmly at the younger woman and opens her arms for a hug into which Belle goes gladly.

“You’ve been missed my dear. Even by the King” that makes Belle’ eyes shoot up and she pulls away to look at Adam for confirmation. Adam, who looks remarkably sheepish. King Henri was never a warm man so that statement seems a wild exaggeration even for Mrs. Potts unfailing optimism. If he’s missed the neighbouring Princess at all, it’ll be for the distraction she provides his son and the potential for money and power she might one day provide for a dowry.

“She means me.” He says, lips twitching into what she thinks was meant to be a smile. _Even the King. She means me._

Adam is the King now. Ruler of his country. And she’d made him walk the plank earlier (brandishing a candelabra as a sword until he jumped off the library table). She hadn’t even curtseyed to him yet. Belle knows she’s not meant to swear but holy fucking shit.

Awkwardness creeps around the royal pair like a heavy mist because neither Belle nor Adam can stop looking at the other. Adam looks like he’s debating whether or not to apologise and Belle’s debating whether the moment has well and truly sailed on a curtsey because _Adam rules the country now._

They’d talked about it for as long as she could remember (well, Pere Robert had talked at them about ‘when you are King and Queen’) but it had always seemed so far off. Something unrealistic, a moment purely theoretical rather than assured for. Furthermore, King Henri had always had the most robust health of anyone, including Papa. Whereas Papa would be struck down often with colds and fevers, King Henri had rode and jousted and slept around like a man thirty years his junior. Belle firmly pressed her lips together, fighting the automatic question of how the late King had died.

Mrs. Potts, God bless her, interrupts by reaching for her son. Chip slips in his mama’s arms and the movement jostles him momentarily into semi-consciousness. “Mama, there’s a girl in the castle” he murmurs blearily. Belle blushes and the three adults chuckle at Chip’s innocent statement “Yes Chip, we know that”

Evidently sensing a development, given how long Mrs. Potts has been absent from the bustle of the kitchen, a head Belle does recognise appears round the corner. “Lumiere!”

It’s only by the grace of the fact that her back is turned that Belle does not see how Adam’s smile disintegrates at the warm, easy hug that the Princess shares with his Maitre D. Something hot and hollowing twists in Adam’s stomach at seeing the other man’s arms around Belle, an irrational anger burning in his very veins.

“It has been too long ma chere!” he murmurs, catching her hand and raising it to his lips. “My dear girl” he whispers, pulling her close once more and winking at his master, forever pushing the line. “We have missed you. Especially Adam”

She smiles back when Lumiere pulls away but its smaller than the initial smile because everyone’s saying that Adam missed her _apart from Adam._ They haven’t actually even said hello to each other yet, never mind ‘I’ve missed you’. And somehow, despite the overall pleasantness of the day thus far, Belle’s struggling to believe that Adam missed her. Glad to see her yes, not the complete brat he was when she left, who used to refuse to play with her, but that just means he’s grown up it doesn’t mean he’s actually missed her. Maybe if she hadn’t grown up listening to the adults lie for and excuse Adam from his awfulness so many times (not all the time but enough that she noticed) she’d be more ready to believe.

Well, they say seeing is believing.

Then Lumiere takes Belle by the hand, and she’s sure she hears a disapproving huff from behind them and leads Belle away from Adam and the Potts’ to the heat and activity of the kitchen. Except it’s actually not very busy. Yes, Chef Bouche, who used to sneak them biscuits and brie is stirring something on the stove but the minute he’s finished he glances at the clock and then jots the time down on a scrap of paper with some charcoal he fishes out of his pocket. He must be timing the simmer and Belle makes a mental note to concoct a device that allows Chef Bouche to time his dishes without having to guess. Bouche then returns to his spot between Chapeau and Mr. Potts where the men have evidently been playing cards.

Lumiere returns to his spot and Belle finds herself intrigued by the game they are playing. Maurice does not gamble (it’s why their Kingdom’s finances are always steady, whereas King Henri’s – Adam’s now, Belle corrects herself, ebbed and flowed with the tide) so this is a new experience, something Belle never fails to relish.

 “Your Majesty!” Chef Bouche exclaims and Belle waits, wondering if Adam’s pleasant mood will disintegrate when he sees his servants gambling instead of working. Perhaps Chip is the only one whom he does not raise his voice to, she remembers that well enough It was one of the few things that made Belle as persistent as she is, these rays of goodness in Adam. Flickering and faint they may have seemed but they were certainly there. It’s why she came back, preferring to spend a summer in Villeneuve rather than staying at home to be pestered by Gaston.  “D’you want to be dealt in?” he asks and Belle is thrown. Her gaze switches to Adam as if watching a tennis match, wondering what his response will be to Bouche’s easy manner of address.

Adam smiles, moving toward the table and  claps his cook on the back. Belle does not see but his other hand nearly comes to rest on the bend between her neck and shoulder, nearly massages the join there. Adam’s always been tactile, painfully so, and now with Belle here, the urge to touch her has become surprisingly acute. He’s idealised Belle in his head somewhat, he can admit that but he’s missed the challenge of her company. Helene and the other beauties he’s enjoyed over the years; earls daughters and local girls and boys from the village as well as a dazed three weeks lusting after his cousins tutor and governess in turn. Belle’s beauty is another factor – Adam always knew she was a pretty child (and he hadn’t exactly been hit with the Habsburg stick as they say in Europe) but the women before him know is stunning. And fun too, more fun than he remembers as he recalls fondly how they have spend the last hour or so, dashing round the Library in imagined events of daring do with Chip. But perhaps that’s because he wants to have fun now, rather than the grumpy resistance of his childhood.

“Let’s head upstairs. We can use the tables in the drawing room.” At his words a small cheer goes up and removing their bets back into their pockets, the men stand and beginning packing away the little porcelain chips into their box from quadrille.

Time was the servants only handled the porcelain of they were serving, not playing games. How times have changed Belle thought as her eyes caught sight of a delicate pair of Porcelain figurines on a corner shelf of the Welsh Tailor and his wife. Watching Adam with Chip, a little boy who would thaw even the coldest of hearts was one thing. But watching him with adults, realising that this alteration in temperament was genuine was quite another. Confusion and hope flushed through Belle, making her stomach do somersaults like the acrobats Papa had hired for her last birthday. Originally she had come back to Villenueve as choosing the lesser of two evils, certain that her childhood thoughts on Adam had not changed, remembering the tomatoes he’d thrown at the ship as they were leaving the harbour that last time. She’d been so innocent back then. Now, now she was wiser, had seen something of the impact of the world upon men, she felt paradoxically unsure.

Perhaps spending the summer with Adam truly wouldn’t be so tedious and political after all.

And wasn’t that a new and alarming thought?

The rest of the day passes quickly and despite Adam’s kindness to his staff, he disappears behind a mountain of paperwork. This is understandable, he is after all the King but he seems bored by the whole thing. The light that had danced in his eyes this morning has gone. When the servants finish their game and their duties again begin to require performance as dinner time nears, Adam is still assiduously engrossed in his paperwork so Belle slips her book out of her skirt pocket and continues reading. About an hour into this peaceful equilibrium, Adam tuts to himself and lays aside his quill for another, fetching a pot of red ink out of a drawer.

“Problem?” Belle asks politely, wondering if she can help. It was something Papa had always done, even when Belle didn’t have the entire context of a problem, he would voice his concerns to her or ask her opinion on phrasing. A lot of the time she would just listen and once Maurice had read the issue aloud he would spot the flaw and thank Belle for her attention. But Adam, rather than taking any of these approaches, looks like he’d completely forgotten she was in the room (this couldn’t be further from the truth, in fact Adam was so focused on pretending Belle wasn’t in the room so that he could give the work his attention that he’d ruined a sheath of parchment trying to make sense of the latest shipment delay.

“No, no, nothing to worry about. Just a couple of questions for Cogsworth” Adam lied, as he scratched _For Later_ in capital letters along the correspondence from his Lord High Admiral and the Count D’Ormonde, Helene’s father, who was getting particularly greedy again. He’d been a favourite of Adam’s father, which is why Helene had always been at court, distracting the excitable Adam from his studies. Adam had been glad to see the back of him in recent years due to an _unfortunate_  incident where the man’s wig caught fire and he was lying low in order for the incident to eradicate itself from public memory with the passage of time. Fat Chance. Adam intended to have all the candles extinguished the minute the man walked back into the Throne Room ‘lest history repeat itself’.

“Well it doesn’t look nothing” Belle insisted, righting herself from where she’d been lounging in the chair. “Would it help it sound ideas off me?” she asks, leaning forward with a pleasant smile. Adam meets Belle’s eyes for a long moment that sends a jolt sparking down her spine. His eyes were such an intense blue, it almost scared her. They say the eyes are the windows of the soul and that is certainly true of the young King because his eyes betray him at every turn, piercing through every pretence. Belle forced thoughts of the pleasing cut of his jaw and his strong hands from her mind, dismissing them instantly. A handsome body did not a handsome mind make. Gaston was proof of that. But eyes Belle could never resist attractiveness of, because they were the _person_ shining through the shell.

She never thought she’d be attracted to Adam of all people.

It’s a bit worrying though the way Adam is looking at her, there’s the hint of what could end up being a smile in the corner of his mouth, but the rest of his lips are in a restful stance. Clearly she’s disturbed a deep thought and Adam’s still in the midst of it. “It’ll keep” he murmurs softly eventually and the smile does come, indulgent and sweet before he returns to shuffling his papers. Belle sits back in her chair a little, flummoxed. That hadn’t been an acceptance nor a refusal and while she was a foreigner in this kingdom, surely Adam trusted her enough to paraphrase his problem? They’d had the same schooling after all and while they excelled in different areas, was it so unreasonable to assume that if he was struggling with the matter she might be able to help?

Belle immediately felt awful for this train of thought. Adam was more than capable and the transfer of power was always a sticky period even in peaceful exchanges as here from father to son. If it had been a coup it would have been another matter entirely. She shouldn’t feel snubbed for sticking her nose into the affairs of state of another country. It was the restlessness she thought, this irritant under her very skin, the urge to jump into action. It occurred every so often but none more than when in unfamiliar territory. This anxiety was made worse by the fact that she ought to feel comfortable here, or at least understand how things worked, be able to hold her own as it were. Yet she doesn’t. When she’d boarded the ship, desperate to get away from Gaston and to stretch her wings a little bit even if was only travelling to Villenueve she’d been hopeful to settle into the old routine of bickering with someone who enjoyed academia as much as she did, who wouldn’t lie to get into her good graces. Yet no bickering only warm smiles and gentle conversation. And now rejection from solving puzzlement.

Adam’s treating her as a guest not an equal and she hates it. Perhaps after this morning her hopes were too high. Ever since they reached port, Belle’s emotions have been like a roulette wheel, spinning unreliably.

This is not good.

**Author's Note:**

> So this chapter very much sets the scene and there'll be grown up Adam and Belle properly in the next chapter


End file.
